


first come round the corner

by meet_the_girl_who_can



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Kiss, M/M, Mentioned Booker | Sebastien le Livre, Mild Language, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Praise Kink if you squint, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:02:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28580172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meet_the_girl_who_can/pseuds/meet_the_girl_who_can
Summary: Nicky had left Genoa and had come home and now, he’s going to have leave again.  Well, not leave as in leave London. To be honest, his life won’t change in any way whatsoever, except maybe it’ll be a little more bearable. And a little less.But he’s got to move out.Because he’s in love with Joe.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 37
Kudos: 340





	first come round the corner

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Rumi. I started working on this in September and couldn't get any further and then it became a nice little thing to work on. I hope you like it!

Everybody leaves home in the end.

Nicky had left Genoa. He’d come here to university and found that nobody minded his questions, or sense of humour, or his sexuality. He’d found a _family_ and they hadn’t lived in each other’s pockets so much as their own pocket. A little corner of the universe that seemed to be entirely their own, comprised of the six of them, the old guard, who everybody knew you’d find together if you were ever looking for one of them at all.

Nicky had left Genoa and had come _home._

And now, he’s going to have to leave again.

Well, not leave as in leave London. To be honest, his life won’t change in any way whatsoever, except maybe it’ll be a little more bearable. And a little less.

But he’s got to move out.

Because he’s in love with Joe.

He came to this realisation on a rainy, non-descript Tuesday. Maybe that’s why his heart did this to him because there was nothing else to distract him from it any longer. But, anyway, he’d come home in the rain to the house that they all share and when he’d been peeling his sopping hood off his head, he’d looked up to see Joe, stretched out in the kitchen window nook in a warm sweater and socked feet, sketching. A cup of coffee left beside his hip, still lukewarm if he’s lucky.

Joe had looked up when the door slammed shut behind Nicky and he’d smiled, so wide and perfect and beautiful that Nicky’s heart had twinged from the sight of it. Because Joe’s beautiful, of course, he is, Nicky had always known that right from when he’d first clapped eyes on Joe in their staunch historical debate in Medieval History. But now, now Joe looked so soft and peaceful and _right,_ that this was where Joe was meant to be, right now, curled up happy and safe in that little nook and Nicky just wanted him to stay like that, forever.

“Hey, little raincloud” Joe had called, voice warm and rich with affection as he took in the raindrops clinging to Nicky’s hair, the dark dampness of his hood and coat and shins. It was so domestic and sweet and -

And it was then that Nicky knew.

He’s fucked.

Well, actually, he’s not and _**that’s**_ the problem.

Because he wants to be. Wants to walk over to Joe and curl his fingers in Joe’s hair and kiss him long and deep and suggest they keep each other warm. Feel the scrape of Joe’s beard against his cheek, kiss the crinkles at the corner of his eye. Take him apart, reverent and slow. And to make it worse, Nicky had shivered both from being cold from the rain and at the same time, suddenly, unbearably hot at the thick course of pure want running through his veins, and Joe had jumped up.

“Fuck, Nicky, you’re soaked to the skin! Where the fuck’ve you been, doing a Gene Kelly impression?!” Joe scolds conversationally, flinging his sketchbook aside (narrowly missing the coffee cup) and scurrying over. He takes Nicky’s cold, wet hands in his own and jumps at the contrast in temperature.

“Fuck, you’re an icicle!” he grouses, rubbing his hands over Nicky’s to get the heat back into them, leaning in so close that Nicky could kiss the crown of his head, which is so, so not helping with the way Nicky’s heart is hammering away inside his chest.

“Right, this is no good. Go and get changed and I’ll put the kettle on and make you some fresh coffee. Something _warm,_ Nicky, don’t just go wandering around in a t-shirt, it’s an English autumn”. Warm, bright eyes catch Nicky’s gaze and Joe winks at him, knowingly.

_Santa maria, madre di dio_

So Nicky turns and flees up the stairs to his room to change. He finds a big bottle green sweater he doesn’t remember buying in one of his drawers under his hoodies and pulls it on over his fresh t-shirt and sweats. It’s surprisingly well-fitting given Nicky’s broad shoulders and the minute he puts it on, he feels better. He even remembers to put socks on, because Joe’s forever telling him to stop walking on the cold tile in bare feet until they can afford to indulge him and get some under-floor heating installed. 

When he clatters gingerly down the stairs it’s to hear the hum of the heating kicking in and see Joe putting two steaming mugs of coffee down on their coffee table. And that just sets his heart off aching again.

Joe looks up and beams at his appearance, nodding in satisfaction. His eyes shine, molten, something dark and heavy settling in his expression as he stares at Nicky. It goes on long enough for Nicky to wonder if he’s got something on his face when Joe finally says, “I knew that jumper would come in handy”

Nicky looks down again at the soft, thick wool and he remembers precisely where he’d gotten it from. Joe had bought it for him, insisting it would look good on him and keep him warm. It’s basically like the sweater Joe himself is wearing, in a different colour. Nicky’s cheeks feel hot and it has nothing to do with the sudden increase in temperature in the house. He ducks his head, desperate not to be betrayed by how easily his pale skin heats up, and a shower of droplets patters onto the floor from his wet hair.

Joe tsks, “Nico! Didn’t you dry – come here, honestly I despair of you” Joe teases, eyes crinkling and Nicky is a weak man. He doesn’t even realise what Joe’s going to do, just stumbles over and then Joe dips into the tiny downstairs bathroom that’s always freezing no matter what and retrieves a clean towel.

“Sit” Joe commands, but the effect is ruined by the gentle expression in his eyes, holding the towel out towards Nicky’s head, “Let me?”

Nicky can only nod, inclining to make the angle easier as Joe starts drying his hair. It doesn’t take long and Nicky luxuriates in the gentle massage of Joe’s fingers through the cloth, floating a little in his chair.

“There,” Joe taps his cheek gently to get Nicky to look at him, “Good boy” he ruffles Nicky’s hair, fondly and oh. Oh no. Not this on top of everything else. Nicky swallows with a click, mouth falling open in his loss at the desire that curls pure and simple in his belly, shifting in his seat as he watches Joe’s face.

Normally he can read Joe’s face easily, Joe who is as warm and open as a well-banked fire, his heart on his sleeve. But he’s never seen that look on Joe’s face before, doesn’t know what it means.

“Better?” Joe asks after a long moment, voice low.

“Si, si, grazie” Nicky is lost in Joe’s eyes.

“Prego” Joe hums back. He taps Nicky on the cheek again, doing a little corkscrew motion into the crease of Nicky’s dimple. Nicky head-butts his hand away and Joe laughs and the world falls back into step. And Nicky so in love, he’s surprised he doesn’t keel over.

****

“So you see why I have to move out” he sighs as he finishes telling Nile the story, lying on her bed.

“Oh, naturally”

Nicky raises himself up on his elbows to narrow his eyes at her and then remembers he’d come to Nile for help. “Can I move in with you?” but Nile only giggles from her desk chair

“Why not?! I can cook, I’m very tidy. I’m an excellent listener” he argues, ticking off his qualities on his fingers.

“All exceptional, and true” Nile agrees, nodding sagely, even though she’s biting her lip as she says it. “You of all people know you can’t run away from your problems. You have to face them”

“Loving Joe is not a problem” Nicky argues back immediately and then realises he’s played precisely into her hands, “Him finding _out_ is the problem.”

Because they’re friends. Best friends. It’s always Joe and Nicky. When Joe asks if he can sketch Nicky, presumably to get the practice in, he’s free. When Nicky experiments with a new recipe, Joe clears his plate. When anything happens, the first thing Nicky wants to see is Joe’s reaction.

But he doesn’t think he could bear it, with this. So he’ll keep himself busy, distract himself until the torch he carries is snuffed out.

That’s the plan.

Nobody said anything about it being a great plan.

He starts working at the library more. Takes the free afternoon shift whenever he can. He walks Mrs. O’Connell’s dog for her on his lunch break, instead of meeting Joe by the picnic tables. Or if he does, there is Osiris there to distract him.

He cooks and bakes, head full of ingredients and the next steps and where the hell he is supposed to find duck livers on a student budget, scribbling down ingredients lists as the Food Network runs on a loop on the tiny tv in the kitchen that Booker found from God knows where, years ago.

“Oh my God, Sicilian lava cakes!” Quynh claps delightedly somewhere in the background, scurrying through the hallways to where the treats are cooling on the wire rack.

“Where?!” And Nicky feels it, the clench of his heart and Joe’s voice not far behind, “Those are _mine!_ Nico, tell her!” Joe appeals as he attempts to shield the cakes from Quynh’s reach.

“The cakes are for everyone, Yusuf” Nicky reminds him peacefully, and then because they _are_ Joe’s favourite and he would make the same declaration for Andy if it was baklava, or Nile and cake pops “But at least six of them are for Joe, yes”

Joe whoops and darts round to press a kiss to Nicky’s temple from behind, easy and affectionate the way he always did. “I knew you had not forsaken me”

Nicky stiffens, and curses himself, heart pounding so traitorously loud in his chest that Joe can probably hear it. Joe pulls back immediately, eyebrows drawn together in a sharp frown, a question clearly on his lips at Nicky’s reticence but Nicky just shakes his head quickly with what he hopes is an easy smile.

The whole point is to be so distracted that he stops noticing how in love with Joe he is. And of course, if he made it known that he was uncomfortable with Joe’s touching, Joe would stop. But he’s not. He’s greedy for it, craves it, savours it.

“That’s like half the tray, Nicky!” Quynh protests until he taps the oven door where the second tray is silently nearing completion.

To the comforting sound of Quynh and Joe bickering playfully over who Nicky loves best, there’s suddenly a quiet, “You can have one you know. Nicky won’t mind”

Andy holds one out to a slim woman with dark cropped hair and kohl-lined eyes. “Nicky this is Celeste” Celeste waves with a light, pretty smile that Nicky returns. There’s another girl with her, with a tumbling plait of red hair and forest green nail polish that matches her eyes, who introduces herself as Daphne.

They’re lazing in front of the tv, not watching and eating lava cakes (the rest safely stored away so Booker and Nile are not left out), when it happens. Celeste is a pharmaceutical student who had helped patch Andy up after one of her krav maga sessions had gone slightly overboard, and Daphne is her girlfriend. They’ve just finished telling the story of how Andy and Quynh met

“She fell over”

“The sun was in my eyes” Quynh retorts drily but she winds her fingers through Andy’s all the same, when

“So, how long have you two been together?” Daphne asks jovially, one of those forest green fingernails waggling between Joe and Nicky who are taking up one of the sofas, at opposite ends, legs tangled together, just like always and Nicky is fine with it, honestly, because it’s just like always and he’s not thinking of the solid weight of Joe on top of him, the Pavlovian response to the scent of his cologne.

Celeste elbows her girlfriend in the ribs as the smiles in the room die.

“Oh no, we’re not together!” Nicky says hurriedly, face _burning_ and for the first time in his life he can’t bring himself to look at Joe, just focuses on sounding upbeat and casual “We’re just friends”

“Oh, I’m sorry” Daphne winces, holding up her hands apologetically, “I shouldn’t have assumed –“

“Nah you’re fine just - not together” Joe explains efficiently

“It happens all the time” Nicky adds, falling into step. And now that he thinks about it, it does happen all the time. When they go to dinner, or the pub or in the library. Mrs. O’Connell keeps saying, ‘your sweet young man is here’ every time Joe stops by. Actually, she keeps saying it more, now that Joe’s having to seek him out.

Nicky is a terrible friend. 

“Well, I’m not surprised, everyone thinks you two are a couple actually.” Daphne explains, not unkindly, “But that’s just stupid gossip of course.”

The bottom drops out of Nicky’s stomach. _Everyone thinks you’re a couple_. A lot of things click into place. Like Mrs. O’Connell. Oh fuck.

“Of course” Nicky parrots robotically. He slides upright, curling his legs under him. Joe watches him, an unhappy downward turn marring that perfect mouth, and Nicky instantly twinges. He’s supposed to be making this better, not worse.

He’s really going to have to think about what he does next. The whole point is not to hurt Joe, with this. But maybe this is why Joe doesn’t really go out on dates much. Well, he does. But only every couple of months. There’ll be someone he likes at his poetry nights, or from the bookshop in the square, or the gym. And he’ll come home, enthused, and throw something on that makes him look like he’s just stepped off the cover of GQ and go off for the evening. But then when the others mention Michael or Chris, Jassem or Cesare he’ll just shrug and say they were nice enough but he wants more. They hadn’t clicked right. They hadn’t fallen into step.

And Andy will smile and say in a voice that sounds like she’s quoting someone; 'it’ll happen when the stars stop being crossed and get themselves in the right position’ and Joe will glare at her, with a strange panicked look, while Nicky looks on and tries to tell the part of himself that is secretly singing with triumph to shut up.

So.

New plan.

He’ll move out.

Okay, so that’s the old plan.

Again, not a good plan, but he’s trying to work with what he’s got here.

Because, he doesn’t want to lose Yusuf, as contradictory as that sounds. Nicky wants to love him, but he does not want Joe to be held back by that love. Especially now, when he’s just found out people think they’re together. He’s been so blind and now, that he knows that the love that he has for Joe really is love, not just the love of their family, the way he loves Andy and Quynh, Booker and Nile. It’s always Joe and the others. Joe is – not held apart, that doesn’t sound right. But Joe is…the other side of his heart. And the best way to fix this is a clean break.

So Nicky goes to Andy and Quynh’s room, about three days later pleased to find the door already ajar. It’s been a weird three days, breaking the patterns they’ve lived in for so long. Andy is to be found crossed-legged on their bed, translating something when he knocks.

“Hey, Nicky” she smiles gently and promptly shoves all her paperwork onto the floor to make room for him. “Joe’ll be gone at least another hour. He and Book have gone to the gym to kick the shit out of each other”

At Nicky’s worried frown, Andy sighs and looks down at her lap, but her voice is full of patience as she pats the space in front of her. Obligingly, Nicky sits, folding his long legs to mirror her pose. “Joe’s upset because he can’t work out why you’re avoiding him”

Nicky rears backward, “I’m not avoi-“

Andy just pins him with a glance and the words die on his lips, “You’re different with him. It’s always been – and now when he reaches out, you don’t reach back? And he doesn’t know why, but you’re clearly uncomfortable and all he wants to do is fix it but you won’t even sit next to him. You’re being a bit of a dick, and that’s not you, Nicky. So, what’s wrong?”

Nicky scrubs his hands over his face, rolling his shoulders at the same, trying to dislodge the weight of his poor decisions. If anyone can help, it’s Andy. Even finding somewhere else to live, given that this technically her house. Which is why he’d come here in the first place.

“I need to move out”

Andy’s eyes widen and she opens her mouth when there’s a very loud series of thuds, and a muffled “Ow, fuck”

Andy jumps off the bed, not even bothering to look round because she knows that Nicky will be right behind her. They dive into the hallway to find Joe sprawled on the landing, looking vaguely pissed at the whole situation.

“Joe!” Nicky scurries over, dropping to his knees before Joe, hands fluttering, “Are you alright? Are you hurt? Where –“

“Fine, fine” Joe bites out, pushing himself into a sitting position, “Just a bruised heart” he actually does rub at his sternum then and pulls off the cap that had been sitting backward on his curls, that endearing little floof of curls poking through the gap at the front.

“A bruised heart?” Nicky asks just as Joe turns to look at him, those entrapping eyes as big and as full of uncertainty as Nicky has ever seen them.

“You’re really leaving m- us?”

Ah. Damn. He knew he should have closed the door when he’d gone to speak to Andy.

“I was thinking it might be appropriate, yes,” Nicky tells him uselessly, wringing his hands, “It would make things easier for you”

“Easier – for me?” Whatever Joe had been going to say is abruptly replaced by confusion as he twists his cap in his hands “What needs to be easier for me? How could you not being here make anything easier?”

Joe is too extraordinarily kind for Nicky, really. “To date. You heard what Celeste’s girlfriend said. Everyone thinks we’re together and I’m not helping matters because I’m –“

Damn, he’s going to have to say it.

“Because you’re what?” Joe asks, voice formal and cold and not like Joe at all. And Nicky did this and he is going to have so much apologising to do. Joe needs him to look him in the eye. He deserves that. He deserves everything. Taking a deep breath, Nicky scoots into a more comfortable position and looks Joe straight in the eye

“Because I’m in love with you. I’ve loved you for years and then – that day in the rain – seeing you all tucked up with your cup of tea and your book I just knew I was going to love you forever, till my forever runs out and I didn’t know how to – you deserve so much better. And I’m so greedy for your affection, I horde each precious jewel you offer and I’ve been stopping anyone getting close to you because they all think you’re mine and –“

Joe stops twisting the cap in his hands. Distantly, out of the corner of his eye, Nicky is aware of Andy’s door closing. Nicky closes his eyes, waiting for it, the wonderfully, sensitive poetic platitudes that Joe will give.

“I am”

Nicky just blinks at him. “Beg pardon?”

Joe’s very close now. He holds out his hands, in reflex and Joe takes them, laughing softly into his lap.

“Oh, you’re going to have to do that several times, scaring the crap out of me like this." Joe says, voice miraculously turned soft and teasing, "I said that I am yours. Simple as that. I have been for ages”

“Wha – why didn’t you say anything?!” Nicky asks, awestruck

“Why didn’t you?” Joe shoots back, quirking an eyebrow at him, but it's ruined by the way he’s smiling, crinkly and happy and the most perfect thing in all creation.

“Because I was terrified you wouldn’t feel the same” Realisation washes over Nicky like hot treacle at the fact that Joe had kept quiet out of his own fear. “Oh, tesoro. Forgive me. I was being - I'm sorry, really” he reaches greedily for Joe, who reaches back, arms tangling as they slot together, Joe burying his face into Nicky’s neck.

“So you’ll stay?”

“With you, wherever” he swears, eyes glancing heavenward, the weight of slipping from his shoulders. “I am yours,” he promises. “Forever”

“Mmmph. Then I suppose I can forgive you" Joe teases, squeezing closer. Then "You owe me so many lava cakes,” he tells Nicky, lips brushing over Nicky’s pulse point, making Nicky quiver and jump and press as close as he can despite the way their knees knock together as they sit on the top step.

“All the lava cakes” Nicky promises solemnly, “And some really good sex”

Joe’s laugh is the best thing he’s ever tasted.

**Author's Note:**

> I always love hearing from you, either here or also on tumblr if you'd like to come say hello or anything @ meet-the-girl-who-can


End file.
